


Angels We Have Heard On High

by malu (orphan_account)



Category: Formula 1 RPF, MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:51:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/malu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1. Christmas Lights - Vale/Dani (Past: Vale/Marco<br/>2. Wrapped in Red - Kimi/Sebastian<br/>3. Baby, it's cold outside - Jorge/Vale<br/>4. Thank God it's Christmas - Kevin/Kimi<br/>5. Last Christmas [M] - Jorge/Aleix, Past: Jorge/Ricky<br/>6. I'll be home for Christmas [M]- Lewis/Nico<br/>7. Let it snow - Vale/Nicky<br/>8. Better Days [T] - Jev/Dan<br/>9. All I Want For Christmas - Mark/Fernando<br/>10. Who Comes This Night - Marc/Vale<br/>11. All My Bells Are Ringing - Jenson/Sebastian<br/>12. My Dear Acquaintance (aka A Very Mar Christmas) [M] - Dani/Marc, Vale/Nicky, Jorge/OFC, Alex/OFC</p><p>And I think they'll be mostly G-Rated, if not, I'll put it in the title</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Lights

**Author's Note:**

> So, for the time that I spend mostly AWOL, I made these short Christmas stories, mostly as a thank you to all the great and wonderful people who keep reading, kudossing and especially commenting my stuff, bearing with all my moods and my messy writing. I love all of you to pieces and you really made my time here so wonderful ♥ ♥ ♥
> 
> I will try to update bits whenever I get to Wifi!
> 
> And they were supposed to be all fluffy, but somehow, that didn't work for all of them.
> 
> Merry Christmas and a happy New Year to all of you! Good Times and Shot at the Night will return in January ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting Christmas a bit early this year ♥

_Those Christmas lights light up the street_  
 _Down where the sea and city meet_  
 _May all your troubles soon be gone_  
 _Oh Christmas lights, keep shining on_

He is standing in the light drizzle, the day as grey as his mind and he doesn’t even notice how he’s slowly getting soaked, his hair flat and dripping on his head and the black coat drenched. In fact, he is not really there, because in his mind, he’s travelled back in time. Three and a half years to be exact, to a private beach in the Caribbean, where he’d also been wet – but not shivering. And where there had been all kinds of colors, bright blue water, white sand, green palm leaves, but no grey. And of course, _he_ had been there with him. They had laughed so much, playing around like children. Soccer matches had been played in the hot sand, both of them bursting with ambition, recklessly tackling the other, tackles often leading to tickling, hugs and passionate kisses. Oh yes, kissing _him_ had been wonderful and Vale will never forget the way he smelled like shower gel and sand and coconut, or the way the younger rider’s curls had always tickled him. They’d had a blissful time, obviously not aware of whatever destiny was holding for them, what life was about to throw at their feet. They’d been joking about a marriage, playful at first but with more sincerity towards the end of their trip and he remembers exactly the wide eyes and the joy on _his_ face when he’d agreed that ring shopping after the season finale would be a perfect closure for the year.

Vale gulps, swallowing down a lump in his throat, his hand moving to wipe the tears from his eyes – as if it would matter with the droplets of rain falling down steadily anyway. _That season finale never happened for you._ He glances at the stone, the letters blurred in front of his eyes and his body shudders, but this time, it’s not from the cold. Quiet sobs run through him for a while, long enough for him to get lost in time and space and then it suddenly feels like his legs give in and that’s when a hand swiftly grabs his upper arm, holding him upright. 

”Vale, I think we have to leave now. We still have to drive a bit and the roads will be full with the Christmas traffic.” The voice sounds soft, comforting, slightly apologetic and he nods without looking, his hand clutching to the single rose that he then slowly puts down, the other hand's grip never leaving his arm through it.

”Thank you." He swallows and coughs, trying to hold back the sobs. "I’m so glad you don’t mind coming here with me.”

He lets himself be pulled up and turns around, walking away arm in arm with the younger rider, his head on the smaller man’s shoulder.

”Why would I mind?”

”Because he was-“ Vale trails off, not knowing how to say it.

”He was what? Your boyfriend, lover, almost fiancé? I know that, Vale,” Dani’s arm wraps tighter around his waist. “I know. But I don’t mind remembering him. I’m not jealous. He has played a big part in making you the person you are now, the person I love. I’ll always feel gratitude towards him for that, you know? He's been a special person for you and I respect that. I always will, Vale." There's a brief pause, Dani stopping in his steps and Vale stopping with him. "And you know he wouldn’t mind either, don’t you? He’d want you to be happy.”

Vale sighs, eyes shut for a moment and images of Marco in front of his eyes, always laughing, always friendly, always warm Marco. Marco who never ever would have done anything to harm or hurt him, instead trying to light up his world everyday. He nods against Dani's shoulder and they start walking again. _Oh yes, he would._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coldplay


	2. Wrapped In Red

_So I'm at your door with nothing more_  
 _Than words I've never said_  
 _In all this white, you'll see me like_  
 _You've never seen me, yeah_  
 _Wrapped in red_

Through piles of snow, he walks up to the house he’s heard a lot about but hasn’t ever been to. It’s early afternoon but gloomy already and the white flakes are falling down incessantly, clouding his sight further. He’s shaky, and that has nothing to do with the snowy path or the bad sight, it’s his nerves, making his heart beat loudly in his chest and his hands cold despite the gloves. This is either the best or the worst idea of his life, he thinks to himself, finally under the small roof over the front door and he shakes off the snow. He’d go back and drive away, but he’s pretty sure his arrival has been noted already. After all, it’s a quiet area and his car isn’t exactly a quiet one. So escape is not really an option and after taking a deep breath, he reaches out with a trembling arm and rings the bell, sound making his heart skip a beat. _Now I’m trapped._

As he suspected, he must have been noticed already, because the door swings open almost immediately, his future teammate staring at him in utter confusion. _I missed you. You have no idea just how much I missed you._ His eyes wander over a black hoodie and a pair of slim, dark jeans before they dare to move back up to _his_ his face, meeting those irresistible blue eyes that currently pierce him questioningly.

”Seb?”

He tries to read something from the tone, desperate to know whether _he_ is happy about him being here without any warning, but as usual, Kimi is inscrutable, even for him. Because although people seem to think that he’s better at reading the Finn than most others, he actually isn’t. So he takes a deep breath and prays his voice won’t sound desperate.

”Hey Kimi.”

”Want to come in?” Kimi steps to the side to let him pass and he gladly walks inside, shaking off the snow and proud that he’s only trembling slightly.

”You look cold. Tea or coffee?” Kimi stands in a doorway, probably leading to the kitchen and eyes him, scrutinizes him, still looking completely confused. Which is understandable, because I am in the wrong country at the wrong time, visiting the wrong person and I didn’t even call ahead of time.

”Coffee sounds good.”

”Okay, I’ll make some. You can leave your coat there.” Kimi points to a wardrobe and turns around, entering what Sebastian suspects is the kitchen. 

He takes a few more deep breaths, trying hard to calm his nerves a little. Still, his fingers are shaky when he puts the dripping coat away and he does it rather clumsy. Noticing the puddles he’s leaving all over the tiles of Kimi’s hallway, he decides to also put his shoes away and then runs his hands through his hair and stays frozen to the spot. _What was I thinking?_

There is no stepping back now though, so he follows Kimi to the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe and watching the Finn handle the coffee machine. One of those really expensive, huge, Italian things. He catches a glimpse of Kimi’s muscles working under the fabric of the hoodie and swallows. _You have no idea how much you have me under your spell._ He lets out an involuntary chuckle at the thought, prompting Kimi to turn around. 

For an instant, the Finn stands there motionless with widened eyes and Sebastian has no idea what exactly is bothering the older man, but then Kimi points at his brand new Ferrari-shirt and walks up to him.

”You look really good in red.” If Sebastian is not mistaken, Kimi’s voice is hoarse and the German just nods, eyes trying to read the expression on Kimi’s face.

”Why are you here?” Kimi steps closer, almost no personal space left between them, which is more than a little unusual.

”I missed you.” Sebastian barely brings out the words because his mouth suddenly decided to dry out. “And it’s Christmas and you said you’d be alone, so I thought- “ he trails off, not capable of deciphering the look in Kimi’s face at all.

”I missed you, too.” The German freezes, brain almost not processing Kimi’s words and then he feels the Finn’s hands around his neck and shivers helplessly, while a soft kiss is pressed to his lips and he would love the world to stop turning right here and now.

”Is- is this what you came for?” It’s probably the first time he sees Kimi nervous but he’s too overwhelmed to comment on it and just nods.

”Well, you’re the best gift I’ve gotten so far this year.” Kimi kisses him again and God, the Finn’s lips feel so good and soft and perfect, Sebastian just wants to melt, while the Finn now reaches for his shirt, tugging at the collar with a smirk. “And I like it that you wrapped yourself so nicely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kelly Clarkson


	3. Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss you!!! ♥

_I ought to say no, no, no_ - **Mind if I move in closer?**  
 _At least I'm gonna say that I tried_ - **What's the sense in hurting my pride?**  
 _I really can't stay_ - **Baby don't hold out**  
 _ **Ah, but it's cold outside**_

”I should really leave now, it will be too slippery on the roads for the taxi if I wait any longer.” Jorge gets up from the armchair, his legs wobbly from the wine already and he knows he really needs to get back to his hotel before he messes this up massively. _It took us a decade to behave like reasonable friends and if I stay here and get drunk, I’ll inevitably give away that I think you’re the hottest thing on earth. So I better get out quickly._ He steadies himself with a grip to the chair and is about to walk towards the door, when Vale jumps from the bed.

”No, don’t leave yet. We haven’t finished the second bottle.”

_I should really leave. But that is a really good red wine. And then it’s not that late._ Jorge falls back into the armchair and sees the grin on Vale’s face grow physically impossible broad. 

The wine tastes nice, the atmosphere between them is better than ever and Jorge forgets time and space during their conversation, endless stories about past races exchanged, teasing going back and forth, but at a truly friendly level, not once crossing the line towards being insulting or offensive. Eventually though, he does notice the display of his phone when he checks a message and he freezes in shock.

”Okay, Vale, I really need to get going now,” he is positively slurring and downs the last bit of wine, before he starts pushing himself up from the chair.

”Aw, no, Jorge, you cannot leave now. It’s too cold outside.”

”I have to get back to my hotel. I have a flight tomorrow morning.” He struggles to get the words out, because his tongue feels a bit too big for his mouth. And in fact, his flight is today morning and not tomorrow morning now.

”But no, it’s snowing all night, the taxi won’t make it anyway.” Vale looks at him and he could swear the Italian looks a bit desperate but then that might just be alcohol-induced wishful thinking. “You can just stay here and pick up your things tomorrow.”

Jorge almost chokes and feels the heat rise into his cheeks. Did Vale just suggest for him to spend the night in the Italian’s hotel room? Gasping for air, he looks around. There’s only a double bed. Vale can’t serious. But a glance at the older rider’s face makes him doubt that, because in all honesty, it looks like a genuine offer. Shaking his head slightly, something he immediately regrets when the world starts spinning mercilessly, he pushes himself up from the chair again.

”No, that wouldn’t be a good idea.” He coughs and tries to steady himself on his shaky legs, angry at himself for ever allowing this situation to happy, him, drunk, in Vale’s room, at an ungodly hour of the night during a snowstorm. What a disaster.

”But Jorge, it’s too cold outside.” Vale stands up and approaches him and then there’s suddenly a hand on his shoulder and somehow the touch feels burning. 

”I won’t walk, I’ll take a –“ His eyes meet Vale’s and suddenly his mouth goes dry. The Italian’s eyes that are usually so light and bright are dark, pupils dilated and there’s an expression on his face that’s unmistakably. _Seriously? After ten years of being around you this is suddenly on offer? After I’ve jerked off over you countless times, have been pining for your for years and finally managed to get more or less over you, you’re inviting me to stay here for THIS?_

”And you could always change flights, you know?” _Did Valentino Rossi just wink at me?_

Maybe it’s all just the alcohol, but Jorge is pretty sure that the touch on his shoulder is real. So is the arm that wraps around his neck when he finally manages to get up from the chair, stumbling forwards and ending up flush against Vale’s chest. And while he’s standing there, held up by Vale’s grip, the older rider’s heartbeat vibrating through him, gooseflesh covering his entire body, Jorge feels a familiar heat spread in his lap and suddenly it seems that it is really very, very cold outside.

”Are you still leaving?” A hoarse voice hisses straight into his ear, the hot breath tingling his skin.

”Nah, you’re right, it’s too cold outside.” Jorge’s arms wrap around Vale’s narrow waist, wine-bravado most likely to blame and when he looks up to the Italian now, he is just in time to see the other lean down. Jorge’s eyes shut instinctively, heart probably pounding loud enough for Vale to hear. And then it’s there, the feeling of soft lips on his and it feels so good. And god, it tastes good, delicious mix of wine and tobacco and just Vale, making Jorge moan softly into the kiss. Their tongues explore tentatively, both seemingly not sure whether the line may really be crossed tonight. But eventually, they gain courage, kiss deepening, moans louder, bodies closer to each other and then it’s not even strange anymore when they stumble into the bed with each other.

Much later, the night almost over already and Jorge curled up cozily against Vale’s side, the Majorcan cannot suppress a soft chuckle. _I think I’ve never been more thankful for a snowstorm in my life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She & Him


	4. Thank God It's Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, wifi and computer fail. Merry xmas, thank you for everything and I miss everybody and AO3!

_Oh my love we've lived in troubled days_  
 _Oh my friend we have the strangest ways_  
 _All my friends on this one day of days_  
 _Thank God it's Christmas_

Kevin curls up under the duvet, feeling utterly pathetic. Here he is, in his childhood home, spending Christmas with his family and hiding from everybody. Because he is a failure. He let them down. Because he cannot bear the looks of pity and the eyes full of disappointment. So he behaves like a coward and barricades inside his room, on his single bed, under the posters of Kimi Räikkonen and Mika Hakkinen, tears of anger and shame dwelling up in his eyes. How could he have been so stupid? Who is loyal in the world of Formula One? What a naïve baby he has been, thinking that he would stand a chance against men like Button and Alonso, experienced, skilled, tactic geniuses. His fists clenched in the sheets, his face buried in the pillows, his entire existence being weak and fragile and he knows he’s really just being pathetic, he knows it’s not helping, he knows he should get up and fight, he knows that’s what _they_ , his heroes, would do – but sometimes, knowing is not enough.

On the nightstand, his phone begins buzzing and he doesn’t want to answer. It goes quiet for a bit, then another short buzz announces a message and with a sigh, he reaches over and picks it up, rubbing his sleeve over his eyes to dry the last tears.

_I’m around for an interview. Want to meet up?_

Kimi. His heart jumps. Kimi wants to meet up with him? For an instant, he thinks it must be some cruel joke. But then, they have been kind of friendly around each other, right? And he heard about the interview, too. Some charity thing. Also, it’s Kimi’s number. And it suits Kimi’s language. So, as much paranoia as he tries to gather, it seems a genuine request - and that makes his heart jump again. 

_Okay. When and where?_

His fingers are shaky when he types the reply and his heart beats in his throat while he waits, anxiously, for a response. He doesn’t even have to wait long, Kimi must be sincerely bored.

_Now._ And an address of a small coffee shop follows, one that mostly only locals now and Kevin wonders how Kimi came across it. The excuse to get out of the house is more than welcome though and he is changed from sweatpants to jeans and hoodie within an instant. When he passes the mirror in the hallway, he stops for a bit, fixing his hair, rubbing on his eyes again, hoping Kimi would read the redness as tiredness and not guess the actual cause and then he realizes he’s checking his appearance and wonders when he started to care whether or not Kimi approves of his jeans. Trying to shake the thoughts out of his head, he yells an apology to his mother in the kitchen.

”That’s okay baby, you need last minute presents?”

”No, mom, just meeting a friend.” Grabbing his keys and scarf, he’s already out the door, stepping carefully over the slippery mix of snow and rain.

*

”Hey, you’ve waited long?”

Kevin’s voice trembles slightly, but he doesn’t think Kimi noticed. The Dane hangs up his coat and sits down at the hidden table in the back of the quiet coffee shop, the comforting aroma of coffee and the soft lounge music doing a fairly good job at reassuring him. His eyes glance over Kimi, who looks a little worn out and worryingly good. Black hoodie, spiky blond hair, teasing smile. Kevin shakes his head again, trying to stop the inappropriate thoughts and focus on what Kimi is saying.

”No, it’s okay. What did you get?” The Finn points at his mug and Kevin shrugs.

”Plain coffee, double shot. Boring but good.”

”Boring, huh?” Kimi snorts and raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of his own drink. Briefly, Kevin wonders whether it contains a shot of vodka, but then there’s Kimi’s car keys on the table and despite the rumors, he’s pretty sure Kimi’s too responsible to drive under the influence.

”So, are you looking forward to Christmas with your family?” 

Kevin jerks up from his thoughts. It’s not a typical Kimi question at all. He stares at the older rider for a moment, trying to read what he’s aiming at and finding his face inscrutable, but the steel blue eyes are definitely scorching him. He squirms under the gaze and looks down into his mug, fingers clutching to the porcelain.

”Not so much,” he mumbles, shrugging helplessly.

”You know that you deserve better, right?”

Kevin stares up at Kimi in confusion, his eyes wide and lips parted and he is just about to ask what the Finn means, when the older rider continues, one of his hands reaching for Kevin’s and covering it while holding it down to the table.

”McLaren made a shit decision. You’d have deserved better.” Their eyes stay locked intensely and Kevin’s brain tries to process it, tries to cope with the fact that one of his biggest heroes, whom he may or may not also have a slight crush on, is sitting in a café with him, reading his mind, comforting him and actually, holding his hand. Holding. His. Hand. Which is starting to go ice-cold even though Kimi’s touch feels as if it’s burning.

”Oh, it’s okay. They know what they’re-“ He can’t finish because Kimi presses a finger to his lips, silencing him and Kevin has no idea what’s gotten into himself, but he flicks his tongue out, licking over the digit and then takes it into his mouth, sucking it briefly, before letting go. His cheeks are probably crimson, but he does manage to hold Kimi’s gaze, allowing him to see the confusion, realization and then desire hit the older man. For a moment, they just sit there, staring at each other and Kevin thinks that even it he’s royally fucked this up, it’s been worth it already. But then Kimi just leans over the table and presses a peck to his mouth. And Kevin gathers all his courage to reach over to hold the Finn's head in place, turning the peck into a proper kiss and, when Kimi doesn't back away, the Dane is grinning into it. _Finally. Finally._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Queen


	5. Last Christmas [M]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, still not much civilization here. Miss you guys!

_Last Christmas, I gave you my heart_  
 _But the very next day, you gave it away_  
 _This year, to save me from tears_  
 _I’ll give it to someone special_

With dinner preparations just about finished, he walks to his bedroom, changing shirts. In the bathroom mirror, he stares into his own eyes for a moment, slightly surprised to see them bright and without the dark circles that had seemed to accompany him for a large part of the past year. And he leans against the sink, taking deep breaths, realizing that it’s really already been a year, another season gone, mostly to a waste and he shudders when his mind inevitably travels back in time, to the same evening - only 365 days earlier.

_”So, only us this year?” Ricky raises a curious eyebrow and Jorge feels his cheeks blush. It’s sure taken him a lot of courage to arrange this and he’s not sure whether he should regret it now._

_”Mhm, only us. I thought,” he takes a deep breath, hoping Ricky won’t hear the trembling in his voice, “it could be nice?”_

_”Nice?” He sees the smirk on Ricky’s face. It probably makes him turn crimson and certainly makes him feel horrible about the entire idea, thinking it had been ridiculous from the start, but then he feels Ricky’s hand on his shoulder, the touch burning in the most delicious way and Jorge just knows that he wants it. He needs it. Finally, after years of denial and secret pining, he needs this to happen. “Okay, well, if you think it will be nice…” Ricky’s smirk reaches evil dimensions and Jorge’s heart skips a beat or two, “then I’m sure it will be. Let’s make the most of it!” Ricky says it with a wink and they sit down at the dinner table eventually, Jorge’s legs not fully steady on the way. It’s the most awkward dinner they’ve shared, at least for the Majorcan, who feels hot and clumsy and just generally horrified, lowering his gaze to his plate while he feels Ricky’s eyes on him, somewhere between amused, dirty and possibly even horny – or is that wishful thinking?_

_He realizes it’s definitely not just wishful thinking and that all the flirting he’d thought he’d seen over the past weeks had obviously been very real, when Ricky’s knee starts nudging his under the table and the younger rider’s hand keeps finding his, too, their fingers brushing a bit too long to still be accidental or on merely friendly terms and he’s still nervous, but now also giddy and excited, every drop of wine only adding to his rushing adrenaline levels. They chat, they laugh, they enjoy themselves and after dinner, he finds himself curled up against his best friend, his house mate, under a blanket, on one of their garden chairs, their breath coming out in little white puffs because of the air. He’s not even shivering, because their bodies are flush against each other, comfortable and warm and he’s simply melting into Ricky’s touch, feeling incredibly content, as if he has arrived at his destination after a long journey. And that’s what it had been, he thinks to himself, years and years of self-realization before he could admit at all what he might be feeling for the other and then the time of waiting and pining, the months he spent trying to read Ricky, to figure out whether or not he had any chance that the other would reciprocate. And now, he’s here, in his arms, right where he wanted to be._

_They don’t talk about it at all, don’t discuss what they want or how or why all over sudden, everything just kind of happens, in some strange autopilot mode. Jorge feels dizzy from wine, champagne and happiness and when Ricky’s mouth presses against his neck, it sends the most beautiful shivers down his spine. Ricky kisses him softly, tentatively for a bit and when he doesn’t complain, the intensity grows steadily, until he is sure Ricky is sucking bruises to his skin. He’s getting hard, just from the sloppy kisses and finally gathers his courage to turn around, straddling Ricky and leaning in for a real kiss, one he’s waited years to share with his friend. The feeling of joy when Ricky doesn’t pull away and instead responds eagerly, lips parting, tongues darting out, is unprecedented, Jorge’s mind overflowing with emotion, fondness and joy. And it grows messier, more passionate by the second, both of them licking the other’s mouth greedily, hands digging into hair and shirts, taste of blood in their mouths from bitten lips. Jorge almost involuntary grinds his hips down, searching for friction and not missing that Ricky is at least as hard as he is himself. And then Ricky pulls back, both of them staring at each other breathlessly, sound of their panting loud and almost obscene. Eventually, Jorge’s gaze locks with Ricky’s, finding the other looking amazing with flushed cheeks, almost black eyes and ruffled hair. Jorge, simply blown away by the sight, only breathes out a single word, “Bedroom?”_

_He wakes up alone in his bed the next morning and that’s when he KNOWS it was a mistake. He’d guessed it all along the way, but now he had certainty. Ricky had used him, nothing more. His legs tremble on the way into the shower and his tears mix with the hot water. He stays under the stream for what seems like an eternity, unable to make his way out of his room, unable to face his friend, unable to pretend it doesn’t mean anything for him, which apparently is what Ricky feels about it. He awkwardly and desperately tries to avoid Ricky, who behaves just as nothing ever happened, around the house, a house that, Jorge notes with horror, suddenly doesn’t feel like home anymore. He tries to bring it up during breakfast, but Ricky just looks completely oblivious, doesn’t seem to even understand what Jorge means by feelings or a change of their relationship and the Majorcan isn’t even sure Ricky remembers everything. As Jorge doesn’t want to seem weak or needy and also doesn’t want to embarrass himself further, he doesn’t push, just gulps and swallows down the lump in his throat, letting go of the topic with a shattered heart and somehow already sensing quite clearly that for Ricky, the night had been nothing but a pleasant distraction, a little adventure to distract himself. And after a few rather teary nights and the realization that they somehow fucked up a great friendship, his suspicions are more than confirmed when during their New Year’s party – arranged weeks before their incident – Ricky ends up making out with a girl Jorge has never seen before. On their couch, among everybody, again seemingly oblivious to the fact that Jorge is breaking down at the sight. It hurts even more than the Majorcan expected and he is feeling like his heart is ripped out right there on the spot. The sight on the couch is so captivating, so horrifying in a way, that he cannot even look away and thus, he sees Ricky’s face, finding it with the same look of flushed cheeks, saliva-coated lips and dilated pupils that he’d seen on him only a week ago._

The doorbell wakes him from the daydream. Or nightmare. Much more a nightmare actually. Would he rewind and change anything about it though? Jorge is still staring into his own eyes and then slowly shakes his head, lips curling into a small smile. Quickly fixing his hair a bit, he shakes his head again and gives himself a full, broad grin now. He wouldn’t want to change a thing, he thinks to himself as he skips down the stairs, hurrying to open the door to a somewhat shyly smiling Aleix, whom Jorge pulls into a warm hug immediately, kicking the door shut behind them. 

”I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers softly, holding his boyfriend close and feeling two cool hands slide under the back of his shirt.

”Me too. I can’t believe we’ll spend our first Christmas together.”

Jorge feels gooseflesh form at the words and nods against Aleix. First, but definitely not last. And no, he wouldn’t want to change anything, because whatever led him here, to a new house, new city, new country and most importantly, new boyfriend, it’s been well worth the pain and the tears. It’s been effort well spent, an experience much appreciated in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wham


	6. I'll be home for Christmas [M]

_I’ll be home for Christmas…_

Lewis rolls to his side and faces him, his hand finding the golden curls and running through them, enjoying the softness, taking in the familiar smell of shampoo and lotion that always surrounds Nico after he’s taken a shower. With a content sigh, he wraps himself around his lover, closely pressed to the soft, warm skin, rubbing their cheeks together, the rasping of Nico’s stubble leaving a tingling feeling on his face. Nico’s arms wrap around him and he hears a content little moan from the German, one that tells him the other feels just as comfortable and relax as he does himself. On his back, Nico’s slender fingers are drawing little patterns, slowly, gently, sending little shivers down the Brit’s spine. With his hands still in the German driver’s hair, he moves their faces until their lips meet and his eyes flutter shut while he loses himself in the moment, the feathery exchange of kisses that gradually evolves into something more tangible, touch getting firmer, lips parting and inviting tongues to play. It’s not long before he feels himself harden, feels Nico’s cock pressing against his in the same state of semi-arousal already, both of them releasing the occasional moan into the kiss. They’re taking things slow and that’s how Lewis wants it tonight. He’s missed Nico, badly, ever since the season ended and the events slowly trickled to an end as well, no longer leaving them any occasions – or excuses? – to run into each other and end up spending the night in the same hotel room. And now he has him back, his Nico, his companion, his strength, his lover, back in his arms, back against his body and it feels so good, so warm, so comfortable, like coming home after a long day of work.

*

Nico breaks the kiss, not because he wants to, but because he’s out of breath and he rolls to his back, taking Lewis with him, holding the Brit on top off him and he opens his eyes to lock their gazes. The most beautiful pair of dark eyes shines down at him, broad smile over his face and he loves seeing him like this, relaxed, slightly disheveled and flushed already and so soft. There’s something incredibly soft and vulnerable about the “Home-Lewis” as he calls him, the version of himself Lewis always becomes once they’ve closed the door behind them, once all the pressure falls from them, once they’re no longer under the scrutinizing eyes of the media and no longer under the firm hold and grip of their teams and overambitious fathers. Or simply, the version of Lewis he fell in love with, hard, years ago, when their pattern started and more nights were spent together than apart during the race weekends.

”Have me?” Nico breathes the words, knowing Lewis can read them from his lips and his cock twitches impatiently when Lewis nods.

Their eyes stay locked, firmly, while Nico feels Lewis prepare him with lube-slicked fingers, teasingly slow but also breathtakingly skilled. He grits his teeth, suppressing the needy sounds that want to escape his throat, wrapping his legs around Lewis’s waist and urging him closer, wordlessly signaling that it’s about time.

*

”Lewis, could you hurry a bit? My parents will be waiting in the lobby.” The voice and the impatient knock against the door wake him from his fantasy and he turns of the tap with a sigh, shaking his head like a dog, hoping in vain to get rid of the images that haunt him.

”Sorry, I’ll try to be quick. You could already go to the restaurant and wait there for me with them, if you want to?”

”No, it’s okay. Just hurry.”

He does, dressing quickly and checking the mirror, more or less okay with the result, deciding that stubble would be okay for the night.

”I’m here,” he says, an arm snaking around her waist and pulling her close, the smell reaching his nose familiar, nice, but not quite right, the feel of her narrow body nothing new but still not what he was expecting to touch and he tries to swallow down the sadness that creeps up his veins, “Love you babe.” _You’d really deserve better..._

*

”Hey, are you dreaming?”

Nico’s head jerks up with disappointment over the realization where he is. And with whom. And he forces himself to smile and look at her properly, assuming she must have been talking to him for a bit already.

”Slightly, sorry Vivian.” He wraps her in a hug. “What were you saying?”

”Are you happy to be home for the holidays? Because you’re looking kind of sad.”

”Just tired, I promise. I love being here with you.” He buries his head in her hair, hiding his face, knowing she’d see the blatant lie written all across it. _I wish it wouldn’t have been a dream._ He sighs softly, feeling her relax against him, trying not to cringe at the feeling of her too small, too narrow, simply too female body in his hold. _God, I can’t wait for the season to begin._

_…if only in my dreams_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheryl Crow


	7. Let it snow

_But as long as you love me so_   
_Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!_

”Look outside, look Nicky, it’s snowing!” Vale is standing at their living room window, staring outside, beaming like a child on Christmas. Well, Nicky concedes, he basically is a child on Christmas.

”We’ll have a white Christmas! Just look!” Comes the next excited squeal from the window and Nicky sighs, acknowledging that it won’t stop until he joins him there and he puts his book to the coffee table with a deep sigh, peels out from under the cover and makes it to stand next to Vale, shivering slightly.

”It looks beautiful,” he says softly, an arm around Vale’s waist, his head against the Italian’s shoulder. And he really means it, it does look beautiful.

”We should build a snowman!” Nicky just shudders at the excitement in Vale’s voice. Not for all the money in the world would he take a single step out into that snowstorm.

”No way. I won’t be freezing to death.” He shakes his head vigorously and feels Vale poke his ribs.

”Really? You’re just no fun!”

Nicky shrugs and looks up to Vale, smiling over the cute pout and pressing a peck to his lips.

”No, Vale, seriously. It’s freezing out there.”

”But there should be a snowman in the yard.”

”Why don’t we save the snowman times for later, when we have to build them with the kids anyway?” Nicky snuggles closer against Vale and listens to the sound of disappointment.

Then, the Italian goes completely rigid in his hold and Nicky cannot help but grin, knowing what Vale must have just realized.

”Wait, did you just,” Nicky’s chin is lifted by a single finger and he meets the most adorable, most beautiful pair of blue eyes he’s ever seen, now staring at him utterly confused, “did you just agree to have kids with me eventually?”

Nicky loves the breathless, completely shell-shocked way Vale’s voice sounds and nods, keeping his eyes on the Italian’s face to watch the reaction. He’s not disappointed when the broadest possible smile appears and Vale’s eyes start to actually sparkle with excitement. There’s a brief pause, an instant where the world has stopped turning, before the Italian has fully processed all that’s been said and lets out an excited little squeal before crashing their lips violently. And when they break apart for air, both ruffled and breathless and Nicky sees the sheer joy on Vale’s face, he couldn’t be any happier about the idea of sharing their future as a family.

”We could go to bed and get started on that project now, you know?” Vale softly whispers into his ear and Nicky cringes. _I might have created a monster there._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank Sinatra


	8. Better Days [T]

_I wish everyone was loved tonight_  
 _And somehow stop this endless fight_  
 _Just a chance that maybe we’ll find better days_

They’ve been yelling on and off for the past two days. Basically, since Dan entered the flat, returned from a sponsor event and put his foot down in the hallway, there’s been an endless string of mutual aggressions, of accusations, of judgmental remarks and unfair blames. It’s tearing on him, obviously, making him fall apart and crumble, because nothing hurts more than wanting to come home, for the holidays, in order to hug your partner and share some love only to enter and then be called out, bickered at and yelled at constantly. It’s not that Dan doesn’t understand Jean-Eric’s frustration. Hell, of course he does. It’s difficult to grasp though why it’s a bigger problem this year than it was last year, because if it had happened then, when essentially Dan had been the one taking his spot away, that would only have been logical. And now, for an entire season, Dan had prided himself with the fact that they’d made it through that, that their relationship had been stronger than Red Bull’s antics – only to find this year, that maybe it’s not.

There’s been no downright single argument that could have told him what exactly he had done to put Jean-Eric in such a bad mood and he is kind of clueless, only sees the general frustration but cannot find a reason why it would be fair from Jev to leash it out on him all the time. It’s not been his decision, he hasn’t even been involved. And it’s driving him up the wall with despair right now, because he really, really only wanted to have a nice and romantic Christmas with the man he loves and now, said man is sitting in living room, staring out of the window wordlessly, ignoring him and he’s standing in the kitchen door, hand in his hair, growl of frustration stuck in the back of his throat.

”You know what? Since you obviously don’t care a bit whether I’m here or not, I might as well leave and go somewhere fun.” He doesn’t yell, but he’s not speaking calmly either and when Jev only shrugs, Dan snaps and storms off.

He ends up in a coffee house, among a handful other guests who look as miserably as himself – because really, who’d go to a coffee house on Christmas eve if he wasn’t lonely in some way – and he feels desperate, staring out into the grey drizzle, the people on the street all hurrying with their last minute gifts, traffic a mess. He sighs into his tea and after he’s been sitting there for an hour, not even a text from Jev on his phone and his heart about as broken as it could be, he ends up calling someone for advice. The one person maybe that he knows who is doing okay at relationships and who also is aware of him and Jev. He’ll be busy, because of his family, and Dan feels bad about calling, but then he also feels just about hopeless enough to call anyway.

”Hello?”

”Hey, um, Seb, um. I’m sorry I’m calling, but I have a problem.”

”It’s okay. We’re having a quiet time because of Hanna anyway. No big festivities this year yet. So, is it because of Jev?”

”That obvious?”

”Mhm. I think that’s the only emergency where you’d consult me for advice. So I’m right?”

”Yeah. He’s just – ugh, I don’t even know how to say it. I mean, of course he minds losing the seat but this year… it’s not my fault at all, I wasn’t even involved and I don’t get why he is so goddamn cold and harsh. It’s been a hell of a month and all I want is peace and Seb, really, he’s obnoxious.”

”Well, it wasn’t your fault, but you can’t very well say that you’ve not been involved, right?”

”How the hell have I been involved in that?”

There’s a notable pause on the other end and Dan thinks he hears Seb gulp before the German picks up the conversation again. ”He didn’t tell you?”

”Didn’t tell me what?”

”I- I promised I wouldn’t…”

”Seb, I swear to God I’ll fly to Germany and torture you until you tell me.”

There’s a deep sigh on the other end, but eventually, Sebastian starts talking again. “Okay, well, Jev had to leave because of you.”

”No, my seat had nothing to do with it.”

”Not your seat. Because of your relationship.”

”What?”

”Christian found out about you guys. He threatened to tell Marko if Jev stayed and that would pretty certainly have cost both of your seats and so Jev left. And I’m sorry, but Hanna just woke up and I have to go now and you should really get your ass back in that flat, Dan. Fix it!”

Dan’s mind is still processing, trying to deal with the intake and he doesn’t even manage to thank Sebastian or anything, only manages an unintelligible mumble to say goodbye and cancels the call, continuing on auto-pilot. On the way back, which he deliberately walks, despite the cold and the rain, he has a thousand thoughts running through his head, the desire to kill Horner ranging quite high on the list, but he cannot focus on any of them long enough to come up with a satisfying plan of his next steps, so when he gets to their flat and stands in the living room, dripping wet from head to toe and shivering, he’s completely speechless. Jev is still on the couch but turns off the TV now, looking at him with a mix of the frustration he’s been showing him all the time lately and a new hint of curiosity and irritation.

”What happened to you?” Jev asks and it almost sounds as if he cares.

Dan thinks about the right answer, he tries desperately, but he has no idea what to say about this. “Jev, I’m so, so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jev stares at him. Or glares, rather, Dan squirming under the look but determined to hold his gaze, to fix this, once and for all. “Who told you?”

Dan shrugs. “It doesn’t matter, right? But I should have heard it from you.” He doesn’t even try to hide the disappointment in his voice and he sees something like regret flash up in Jean-Eric’s face.

”What should I have said? I didn’t want you to live with the guilt.”

”First, it would have been my decision. And second, you made me feel guilty anyway, the way you’ve been treating me ever since I came home.”

”I’m sorry.” And Dan sees the wobble of Jev’s lips and realizes that they’re finally getting somewhere here. “I’m really sorry, Dan. It’s just… I thought I could do it, take it, easily. But then, when I saw you, it was suddenly so much more difficult. And I’m so scared, still, every single day, that our relationship will cost you your seat. And I know I should break up with you to save your career and I really, really meant to do that but then I saw you and –“ 

Dan ends the ranting and rambling by pulling Jev up into his arms and kissing him, violently, urgently, as if there’s really no tomorrow. He feels tears, mixing with the rain on his face and he cannot tell whether they’re his or Jev’s and he doesn’t care, doesn’t want anything but feel and lose himself in the touch right now. 

It’s only when they’re both completely out of air, that they break apart, Dan blinking at Jev’s teary eyes, both panting heavily. He slowly catches his breath, thumb tracing Jev’s jawline.

”I’m so glad you didn’t. And we won’t end this just because of Horner’s stupid little mind games, you hear me?” Dan is growling and incredibly relieved to see Jev nod, though it’s hesitant and while biting his lower lip shyly.

”Jev, we’ll be okay. I’ll be okay, you understand? I’m better than Horner, I won’t lose my seat over this. And you have a new seat. So there’ll be better days ahead, I promise!”

”But-“ Jev tries to speak up but Dan silences him with a quick kiss and shakes his head.

”No more buts. And never ever make decisions for me again without asking me, okay? Because I seriously thought you’d leave me because you felt I stole your seat.”

”I’m so sorry,” Jev buries his head in Dan’s neck and Dan shakes his head again.

”No, don’t. I’m sorry, too. I should’ve noticed a long time ago.” Dan sighs, hands sliding under Jev’s shirt and he shivers in his damp clothes.

”Dan, you’re catching a cold. You need to shower and change.” He doesn’t see the Frenchman’s face, but he can hear the frown just from his voice.

”Will you join me then?” He grinds their hips together, feeling Jev shudder and nod against him and it’s all the answer he needs right now. _We have to fix this, we have to… because if we didn’t, I’d have to kill Horner…_

_Cause everyone is forgiven now_  
 _Cause tonight’s the night the world begins again_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goo Goo Dolls


	9. All I want for Christmas is you

_I don’t want a lot for Christmas_   
_There is just one thing I need_

Christmas. Alone. That’s about as low as it gets, he muses, his feet stretched on his coffee table, glass of delicious red wine in his hand slowly getting too warm to be truly enjoyable and he lets his head sink against the back of the couch with a small sigh. Well, who should he be spending it with? Dasha was gone and that’s not even been her fault and her mother, disappointed in her hopes for grandchildren has been behaving unbearably ever since. So Christmas alone sounded a sensible option at the time. Only now, in his semi-dark house that’s just way too big and way too quiet, there’s nothing nice about it at all. He doesn’t really want to turn on the TV, he’s had to turn off the Christmas music because it made him feel pathetic. However, in the silence, the single sound of his ticking living room clock is slowly driving him insane. He really doesn’t know what to do with himself or the night and in front of his face, a familiar Australian jaw pops up, the only person he’d really, truly want here right now.

Mark. Source of many sleepless nights, wasted tossing and turning. His constant companion, good friend – and coincidentally, the person he always saw in his head when he was jerking off. Or having sex. And yeah, Mark was the reason for his break up with Dasha, because after years of trying, Fernando had realized she’d never be a substitute and he cared too much about her to make her endure a second-best solution for any longer. In the beginning of the season, he had – for the first time in ages – been hopeful that he’d get over it, that the constant burning, longing, pining would fade, now that he wouldn’t see Mark as much anymore. The opposite happened though; missing Mark soon became an even bigger pain than unrequited longing. It hurt more than he had imagined and many times, more than he could bear. Then, he agreed to Le Mans and it made matters worse, the weekend briefly reminding him of their good times, the fun they’ve shared, the hanging out, the late night talks. And it ended with having to see Mark in pain, not being able to comfort him, dragged off to other obligations. Fernando shudders at the mere thought and tries to recall happier images from better days, fun interviews they’d done, celebrations they’d shared, idiotic things they’d done when they’d been drunk. The trick works, the daydream bringing a broad grin to his face and drawing a content sigh from his mouth.

He’s almost dozed off over his musings when there’s a sharp knock at his front door and he jumps from the sound. Blinking against the fully lit hallway, he makes his way to open it, stepping back with a gaping mouth and wide open eyes, letting in his surprise visitor without saying a word.

”Hey, mate.” Mark closes the door behind himself and stands there, still in his coat, staring at him somewhat shyly and obviously insecure.

”What-“ Fernando’s voice isn’t fully functioning anymore and he coughs desperately before he makes a second attempt, “what are you doing here?”

”I… I read your tweet and realized you’d be alone here for Christmas and that…” Mark sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Well, that just kind of felt wrong.”

”So you came all the way… just to…” Fernando doesn’t manage to complete the sentence and his mind is still trying to get a hold of the situation.

”I thought you would. No. I should- “ Mark is stuttering and blushing and they’re still facing each other nervously, Fernando incapable of a reaction. “Just… okay, just screw this. I’m done pretending. Listen, I came all the way to do this.”

And before Fernando can even do as much as blink, Mark is hugging him closely, their lips tightly against each other’s and the Spaniard melts into the touch. _I guess my wish list has been fulfilled then._


	10. Who comes this night

_Who sends this song upon the air_   
_To ease the soul that’s aching?_   
_To still the cry of deep despair_   
_And heal the heart that’s breaking._

Marc is swaying slightly while he makes his way to open the door and that’s when he realizes that he might have had too much champagne already, more than would have been good for him anyway. But then, it’s not as if it matters. Or as if he cares. And at the end of the day, he’s a bad guy now, so he can indulge in creating a suitable image. And he’d been prepared for a lot of things on his doorsteps, from an angry mob to a concerned Alex or even his mother ready to drag him home straight away, but this, he hasn’t seen coming.

”Vale?” He knows how ridiculous it is to ask, because the Italian is standing there, full size, clearly him, but Marc just has to ask, because it seems surreal, impossible, somehow wrong, like a glitch in the matrix.

”Hey, yeah, umh,” the lanky Italian smiles nervously and Marc waves him inside, closing the door, while being totally started by the rest of Vale’s sentence, “Sorry I’m getting here so late, I had to drive back up from Cervera.”

”You drove all the way from Cervera?” Marc gapes and stares and feels his breath catch, while his brain has denied service.

”Yes, I thought you’d spend the holidays with your parents and Alex and they said you’d be here, so I went back to the car and drove – “ Vale stops, blushes a bit, continues after a cough, “and anyway, why are you here, alone, on New Year’s?”

For the moment, Marc is too overwhelmed to answer the question, but when he realizes that the tense pause will last until he answers, that Valentino’s scrutinizing eyes won’t leave his face and that he will not get his peace back before he comes up with some sort of explanation, he takes a deep breath and everything kind of pours out of him.

”I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea. I just… I wanted to prove that I can do it, you know? This whole moving out, living by myself thing? Because I’m 21. Fucking 21 years old. And I felt so pathetic to still be living with my family. And then there was all that fallout… I mean really, what did they think? That I’d stay in a country where people would ring my doorbell right after breakfast to make me sign some T-Shirt? So I had to prove it even more and everything got out of hand and I just kind of… well, I barricaded here, out of spite. And I couldn’t admit it to anyone, but it feels so wrong. Everything feels wrong about this place. You know, this should be home now, it should be mine, but it’s not. Or at least, I don’t feel it.” He takes a deep breath and looks at Vale, who all throughout his rant, has listened with attentive eyes and a hand on his shoulder that’s slowly burning through the fabric of Marc’s shirt. Lowering his gaze, the Spaniard softly adds, “I don’t think it will feel like home. Not ever. Not after what happened when I said I’d move here. God, I feel so pathetic, Vale.” And he’s painfully, embarrassingly aware of how much his voice is on the verge of tearing up right now and when Vale pulls him into a hug, he cannot help but sniff into the Italian’s coat briefly.

”You know, moving out is a big thing.” He hears Vale’s voice muffled, the Italian speaking into his hair and his arms and hands rubbing Marc’s back. “Especially if you have to do it under the eyes of the media with an angry mob wanting to tear you apart over it.”

They break apart after a while, when Marc feels too ashamed of his own neediness and his eyes fall to this big package Vale carelessly dropped to the floor of the hallway before.

“What the hell is that even? It’s huge!”

“A Panettone.” Vale squirms and blushes a bit. “Italian Christmas tradition.”

Marc scrutinizes the box, unwraps it curiously and hastily and then eyes the cake it held. It looks good, but not perfectly sculpted like those you find in supermarkets. That’s when it dawns on him.

“You BAKED me a Panettone?”

An adorably blushing Italian nods and stammers, admitting that his mother helped him with his cheeks turned to a perfect shade of crimson, only to be jumped at by a very emotional Spanish MotoGP rider.

“Oh my God, that’s got to be the sweetest thing anyone ever did for me.”


	11. All My Bells Are Ringing

_Take my heart_   
_This Christmas_   
_Take it_   
_Where ever you go_

What a matching end after a horrible season. Sebastian snorts and makes his way through the hallway, passing someone from the team with a frown, successfully discouraging the man from even saying a word. Which isn’t fair, because it’s sure as hell not his fault, but Sebastian doesn’t feel like exchanging little nothings now, he just wants to be left alone, possibly empty the minibar, enjoy the air condition and yell at the walls. Maybe shower again in a final attempt to get rid of that feeling of sweatiness that accompanies him every time the circus stops at Abu Dhabi. And then he wants to drown in his misery and whine to himself about the fact that Jenson had to leave early to do some stupid sponsor event. And yeah, it’s not Jenson’s fault, but Sebastian is angry anyway, feels left behind although he obviously would do the same if his sponsors wanted him to and so he stomps his way, brows furrowed, teeth gritted, hands curled into fists. He almost throws the door to his hotel room open – only to stand there with widened eyes and a gaping mouth, full of disbelief.

Slowly, he closes the door behind himself and blinks, shaking his head in disbelief, but the room still looks the same: it’s darkened, lit by candles and little blinking lamps. And these lamps, there’s not mistake in his vision here, are draped around a Christmas tree. A real Christmas tree. With ornaments, ribbons and lights. In the middle of a hotel room, in Abu Dhabi, in November. It must be some strange joke, right? Because there is no reasonable explanation for this. From the corners of his eyes, he tries to check the room for hidden cameras, fearing he’ll be taped for the enjoyment of some TV audience. But then, even that doesn’t really make sense. In the background, there’s soft Christmas carols playing and if his mind isn’t starting to play dirty tricks on him, the room smells like gingerbread. 

”Hey there, beautiful!”

The voice from the bathroom door makes him jump and jerk his head, slightly panicked until it sinks in that it’s Jenson’s voice he’s hearing and Jenson’s face he’s seeing, grinning widely, while his boyfriend is standing in the doorframe in a breathtaking black suit.

”Jense… what-“ He doesn’t really know what to say, still too surprised by simply everything and so he just stands there, moving his arms aimlessly and helplessly, gesturing around the room.

”Do you like it?” Jenson closes the gap between them, draping an arm around his shoulder protectively and pressing a brief kiss to his forehead, “You were so disappointed that we never get to spend Christmas together and you looked so heartbroken, I just had to do something.”

”I’m sorry I lied about the event, but I didn’t know how else-“ Jenson starts to apologize but Sebastian cuts him off with a kiss, melting into the ensuing embrace that feels like home, realizing that even Jenson smells a bit like gingerbread and for a moment, he allows his mind to wander off and dream of this being and actual Christmas spend with the man he loves and it makes a huge smile spread over his face, all the weight off that horror season seemingly falling off him here and now..

”Don’t,” he presses a finger to Jenson’s lips when the Brit wants to start explaining himself again. “Don’t apologize. I love it.” _And I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lenka


	12. My Dear Acquaintance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably, this only makes sense once you've read Mar Adentro, but feel free to try ♥
> 
> Love you all ♥

_Raise your glass and we'll have a cheer_   
_For us all who are gathered here_   
_And a happy new year to all that is living_   
_To all that is gentle, kind, and forgiving_   
_Raise your glass and we'll have a cheer_   
_My dear acquaintance, a happy new year_

Christmas and New Year’s at Vale’s, which is now actually Vale’s and Nicky’s, have become a firm tradition, the core of their group invading the ranch year after year, sometimes joined by Roser and Julia, by Luca and Cecilia or Uccio and his family. That first Christmas with Luca and Cecilia had been rather memorable, Nicky thinks, laughing to himself, because Vale as overprotective brother had been a sight of its own and the haunted look on the young girl’s face had been priceless. Luckily, Vale had outgrown the worst of it by now and this year, the third with Cecilia - speaking lengths about the difference in commitment between young Luca and young Valentino – Vale and Cecilia actually got along nicely. Staring at the sleeping, softly snoring bundle in his arms, Nicky cannot help but chuckle. _Dear Lord, the day you bring your first boyfriend or girlfriend home, may God bless his or her soul and save him from the rage of your father…_ And in a very, very hidden corner of his brain, he adds the desperate with to witness that exact thing one day. Thinking of a certain Italian, Nicky wondered what his husband was doing right now and then immediately dropped the thought. The Christmas preparations, decorations, fuzzing about cleaning, tidying, organizing, those have always been Vale’s thing and he learned to stay out of it to avoid becoming the aim of all the nervous anger building up in his husband’s system over these few busy days, an anger that always vanishes the second the loud doorbell echoed through the rooms on Christmas Eve, announcing their visitors. And even this year, or especially this year, Nicky is determined to let Vale his routines, though he is more than a little glad that Signora Romeo happily agreed to help him out with a few things. _It would really be a bit much for you right now… even if I know you’d never complain._

*

”Hey, how is it going?” Jorge pulls Vale into a hug, realizing just how much he’s missed him this past season. It’s not like they haven’t met, Valentino is a firm part of the circus of the MotoGP world and probably will be still on his death bed. Yet, it’s not the same anymore, without him as teammate. And if anyone had told him this ten years ago, he would have rolled on the floor with laughter, but now he has to wipe a secret tear from his eyes when they break their embrace and Vale looks at him with sparkly eyes and a wide grin.

”It’s great. Alessia learned to roll over. How’s Ricard?”

The beaming smile, the audible pride, it’s adorable and Jorge just has to squeeze him again.

”Ricard is doing great, he’ll get his first motorcycle this Christmas, but shh.” He winks at the Italian and nods over to Clara, who opposed the gift strongly.

*

_It’s perfect, truly and completely perfect._ Marta’s eyes wander around the breakfast table, tears dwelling up while she watches everybody and memories from her first visit at the ranch flood her brain, days spent crying in Clara’s arms. And now, only a few years later, she’s sitting here, her fingers laced with those of a first time MotoGP world champion who, in spite of his age and any expectations, has grown to be the most amazing dad in the world and her eyes wander over to a beaming young boy playing with a brand new Lego Ferrari. The same young boy, whom she has seen do his first laps on a Yamaha this very summer. And it’s scary how quickly they change, how fast they grow, but at the same time, it feels like the most beautiful accomplishment. When she considers how she was convinced she wouldn’t even make it through birth… and now, there’s actually two of them… incredible. And Alex, with his son and daughter on that podium in Cheste, that will be the image of her life and she’d pay Vale a fortune, she’d do anything he wants, as a thank you for making it possible. And not just that. She’s well aware just how much they owe him.

*

”So, you’re really serious about this?” Clara stands there, nails digging into Vale’s forearm forcefully and her husband turns around and smiles at her widely.

”Definitely. We all started around this age. He’ll be fine.”

”I will kill you, all of you, if he only has as much as a scratch after this.” She glares daggers at the guys and she knows they’re right, she knows it will be okay and she knows she’s being irrational. But damned, that’s her son on that motorbike and he’s too young to be riding a freaking motorbike and she cannot believe that even Dani out of all people, Dani who should know how dangerous this is, doesn’t disapprove.

”Hey, it’s going to be fine.” She feels Marta’s hand on her other shoulder. “I’ve been there and it turned out fine and if my heart survived, than yours will, too.”

”Go Ricky,” squeaks Marco’s voice excitedly and, accompanied by the clapping of the guys and a very cliché squeal by Clara, Ricard follows his best friend’s command, making his first meters on a bike, carefully taped and photographed by an overjoyed Jorge Lorenzo. Clara thinks she’ll pass out from terror any second, her heart drumming and her throat too tight to breathe, when she hears a familiar voice next to her ear. 

”Don’t worry, he has the best teachers in the world.” She lifts her head to meet his gaze, almost blown away by the piercing blue eyes and the soft smile, so different from his usual cockiness, so genuine. _They’ve written so much trash about you. They’ve hunted and haunted you. They’ve wanted to see you down and cheered when you fell… And you came out of so strong and as such a kind and loving person, it’s amazing and I hope you’ll manage to do a Phoenix-like rise once again..._

*

”I think Jorge and Clara are catching up.” Alex snuggles closer to Marta, an arm around her waist, fingers caressing the small of her back.

”What do you mean?” She blinks at him and he chuckles at the confusion on her face.

”Haven’t you noticed that she’s having water. Only water? No espresso, no wine. That’s how Vale found out last time, remember?” He looks at her face, marveling the perfect symmetry surrounded by the – now – light brown strands and still a bit incredulous that she’s actually and still, even after all his antics and his mistakes, his and only his. With amusement, he watches how understanding spreads over her face, her lips curling into a huge grin.

”Wow, you’re right!” She’s almost squeaking and he has to calm her pressing a finger to her lips, because he really doesn’t feel like dealing with a woken-up infant right now. “When did you become such a good observer?”

”When I had to watch out which idea my lovely toddler would develop next in an attempt to kill his baby sister,” he whispers with a grin, hands pressing her closer and mouths meeting. 

Their kissing grows more passionate, bodies flush against each other, his hands rediscovering her body once again, mapping it in every detail. And he remembers their first stay here and all the tears and desperation, he remembers the second one, the crash, the hospital, the worst pain of his life and certainly hers as well and the sheer joy of holding Marco. And he’ll never forget Vale, holding the little one with tears streaming down his face, one of the images that last a lifetime. They’d been so happy when they heard about Alessia and, no matter what kind of witch hunt the media will come up with, Vale and Nicky are the best parents he’s ever seen. Well, second best, because first price will always be his own. Always and forever,

*

”So, tomorrow there’ll be another year gone. Excited about the next one?” Dani comes to stand next to Marc, their sides touching and his head dropping against Marc’s arm.

”Mhm. Yeah.” There’s a distinct lack of enthusiasm in Marc’s voice.

”But…?”

”I feel a bit tired, worn out. It’s been a long season.”

”You’ve been severely injured, of course you’re drained.” Dani wraps an arm around Marc’s waist.

”I know. But that’s not the first time, right? 2012 was worse.”

”You were younger than,” Dani giggles. “Or is this about Alex taking the title?”

”No, I’d never. And you know that.” Marc’s voice sounds angry and he’s right, he would never envy Alex for that, something Dani should have known.

”Sorry… but what is it then?” 

”I just… I don’t know… every time I see you with Marco and Reina, I just wonder if you’re really ready to wait for my retirement.”

”Aw, of course.” Dani runs a hand through Marc’s hair. “I like being uncle Dani and spoiling them and everything. It’s pure fun. And I always knew I’d have to wait until you’re grown up.”

Marc laces their fingers between them while they stare into the black sky and then Dani feels himself pressed against the very same wall he’s been pressed into years ago, feels their lips crash, familiar taste of blood lingering in their mouths almost immediately, teeth hitting roughly. Marc’s crotch is against his, friction breathtaking and almost enough, but always just almost. After a felt eternity, Marc pulls his head back, string of saliva connecting them and dark eyes staring into Dani’s with a mix of lust and possessiveness that makes his knees weak as pudding, over and over again. He barely has time to clench his hands in Marc’s hair before his husband sheds his shirt and tugs at his jeans and boxers and he groans helplessly and way too loud, when Marc’s tongue traces a line down his torso. There’s a desperate urgency in the way Marc swallows him down, moving around him greedily with a fast rhythm and Dani loses himself all too quickly, no finesse just pure desire intended for the moment. And when he comes down Marc’s throat, he lets himself slide down the wall, coming to kneel in front of the still so young rider, holding him close, breathing in his scent and feeling him shudder against his own body. _It’s not about the past season… and not about kids… it’s your way of dealing with the other thing and this was your way of clinging to life…_

*

”We wouldn’t be here without him.” It’s much later, Dani is fully dressed again and another bottle of wine has magically disappeared. Marc is leaning against Dani, both of them still on that terrace, now wrapped in a blanket on one of the garden chairs, eyes once again lost in the starry sky.

”I know,” he hears Dani whisper, hot breath right against his ear.

”He made us kiss, in that hotel room. He made you realize everything.” Marc feels his own voice tremble.

”I know,” comes another whisper and he melts into Dani’s hold, his body shivering and he feels the tears stream down his face, Dani’s hands rubbing circles on his back and Dani’s mouth whispering a flood of comforting nothings into his ear. 

*

Another year. One that can only be better than the last. Vale sighs and climbs up the stairs, the holidays taking their toll on his wrecked body quickly this year. It’s been lovely as always to have everybody around, he’d loved it from the very first time on, when a worries still revolved around Marta and Alex mostly, and he still loves it now, having them all around him. Those family meals are something he wouldn’t trade for anything, not for all the riches of the world. He’s the last, having sent everybody else up already and having enjoyed a single private drink in his garden, hearing the last faint sounds of some fireworks somewhere, his heart clenching at the realization of the close call everything has been this time around. He enters their bedroom on his tiptoes, finding it vaguely lit by Alessia’s night lamp. His eyes rest on his daughter and husband, asleep against each other on the large bed – and he doesn’t give anything about the discussion on co-sleeping or not this night, because it’s a special one – and his eyes fill with tears while he watches them, both breathing evenly, their faces peaceful and relaxed. He hasn’t seen Nicky relaxed much lately and in a way, that’s his fault, so he’s all the more glad about the sight now. A tired, heavy hand runs over his head, still irritated by the stubble that replaced the long curls. And he’s had short hair, back in the days, but it’s different when you don’t choose, he thinks to himself, shedding his clothes carefully and then climbing into the bed, lacing a hand with Nicky’s and feeling a tiny, almost imperceptible squeeze. _It’s been horrible, it’s going to be for another bit, but I’ll manage. For you, I’ll do all the fighting in the world, even if it’s against a terrifying enemy. Because I’m truly blessed to have you…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regina Spektor

**Author's Note:**

> Sixpence Non The Richer
> 
> (Most of the artists aren't the original composers/interpreters, I just listed them to let you know which version I was listening to while I wrote the pieces.)
> 
> Thanks for reading and just genuinely everything ♥


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